Flecks of Golden Sand
by Dasha Feather
Summary: When they make love this time, they have sand in their hair. Post Journey's End.


**Title: ** Flecks of Golden Sand (1/1)**  
Author: ** Dasha Feather  
**Characters:** Ten II/Rose  
**Rating:** Adult.  
**Genre:** Smut, fluff, a smidge of angst.  
**Spoilers:** Journey's End.  
**Disclaimer: ** _Doctor Who_ © BBC.  
**Summary:** _When they make love this time, they have sand in their hair._

It's been two weeks and six days since the Doctor kissed her on that cold beach in Norway. Rose doesn't think she's taken her eyes off him for a single day since. She doesn't think he's taken his eyes off her for a single day since either. He's looking at her now, watching out of the corner of his eye. Watching her watch him.

He's smiling, too. She's missed that smile. He's beautiful when he smiles. His entire face is lighting up, like the sun peeking fully from behind a cloud.

They're on the beach. Not the one in Norway, with grey cliffs and grey memories. A different one, a brighter one. No one else is here, it's remote and deserted and utterly beautiful, like their own little sanctuary.

He is lying out on his back in the sand; his eyes are on the sky but the corners are pointing at her. She lays beside him, head tilted towards him, shoulder brushing his.

Her hair is getting sandy and her jeans are getting damp, yet she can't seem to care. She sighs happily and tilts her head onto his shoulder. He turns towards her, and his brown eyes are full of shadows. He stares at her for a long time, his eyes scanning her over as if she is some rare and beautiful jewel he can't quite believe he's managed to be in the presence of. His gaze makes her feel wonderful, like she's the most fascinating thing on the planet.

He moves his hand over to her face, over her cheek and her lips. His mouth is open in a smile of awe. "You're truly the most gorgeous creature I've ever met," he tells her.

She feels herself smile widely. A true smile, a small giggle.

When she laughs now she can feel it lift from her stomach, different from when she used to laugh in this world. It isn't just a noise from her mouth now; it's being happy, it's being content, it's being loved.

He runs a thumb over her left eyebrow, down along her eyelashes, closing her eyes with delicate movements. She lets him because he likes to explore her body. He can't explore the stars anymore after all.

She worries sometimes about how much he misses it, if he would trade exploring her body for exploring the stars and how long it would take to decide to leave her. Only sometimes though.

She opens her eyes when the contact leaves and sees him staring at her still. It's a bit different though. His eyes are burning; it's desire.

His hand moves from where it rests on her shoulder, down her breast. He looks at her; asks his question with his eyes and she answers with her smile.

His eyes move to her breasts and with deliberate and slow movements he undoes each of the buttons on her blouse. Once he's done and her pink lace bra is on show he pushes his hand underneath – nudging, touching, squeezing the nipple. His other hand moves to the back, manages to undo the hook. It loosens like a balloon with a tiny hole in it. She stops him with a look.

He is confused for a moment, about to speak, but she puts a finger to his lips and takes off her blouse and her bra. His eyes are like flames in the sun.

It's a bit like a game. She goes forward and takes of his jacket and tie. He takes off her flip-flops. She unbuttons his shirt; takes it off him as she kisses his chest. He unzips her jeans; pulls them down and from her body. She unbuckles his belt and slips his trousers down, boxers along with them – she feels his hard on dig into her; it's wonderful.

Once they are both naked he wraps his arms around her body; he's hot and smelling like old oak and vanilla. His hair is full of flecks of gold – sand, sparkling against the brown in the sun. His arousal is obvious as it pushes her legs apart.

"I love you," she whispers into his ear.

"I love you more," he whispers back.

He holds her closer, as if afraid that being too far away would suck them both into separate abysses. His warmth comes, presses into hers. He kisses her and she kisses him harder back – noses, lips, cheeks and necks. Her eyes are closed and it feels like she's flying.

"Rose," he says – a prayer, an answer, a song.

She lifts up her legs, wraps them right around his waist and thrust forward. He moans beautifully. His body moves with her and it's like they're dancing in the sea of sand.

Anyone could be here, anyone could be watching, remote or not. Neither of them care at all.


End file.
